


She's Somewhere Far Away

by Irradiated_Demigod



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Heartbreak, Internal Conflict, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 15:17:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6663856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irradiated_Demigod/pseuds/Irradiated_Demigod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where the Sole Survivor and MacCready get close, and she helps him get the medicine for Duncan before being swept up in the hustle and bustle of the Institute, leaving our(Fallout fans) favorite mouthy merc to contemplate what to do about the pain he feels for being abandoned by someone he thought he could trust.</p><p>He has just wiped out Winlock and Barnes' Gunners by himself...</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's Somewhere Far Away

**Author's Note:**

> A short drabble of mine, nothing special, but thanks for reading.

MacCready sat back, rifle against his shoulder, flexing his hand for a few moments before digging the blade in. She'd have given him hell, no doubt, something about cutting arteries by accident, maybe? She had almost become a doctor, after all. The bullet came dislodged, and he released a gasp that was damn close to pleasurable. He'd never imagine he'd enjoy having something dug out of his body with a knife, but it was better than worrying. Better than regretting.

He had no skill for medicine, which was probably some form of ironic given how he'd been injured similarly to how he was currently injured. Bullet holes, laser burns.

He did his best, his work looked worse than hers, and it showed in how uneven his stitching job was. He had to settle for it, wrapping the wound, aiming a kick at Barnes' lifeless body to try to make himself feel better. Killing them alone hadn't been easy, but it was done, and he was...finally suffering more on the outside than the inside. This had been the third bullet hole he had worked on, he still had a couple more. His mending had grown uglier with each wound, as he fell into deeper fatigue.

By the end of the work on his last wound he was trapped with his own thoughts again, sitting back with no shortage of pained groans. He closed his eyes, she was there, he opened his eyes, and she sat before him. No matter where he looked, she was there, looking back. Those blue eyes tormenting him, burrowing into his soul. The expression on her face was content, the look she'd worn when he had agreed to share the bed with her rather than sleeping on the floor. She just wanted to know he was comfortable, and had been happy when he had agreed to her request. He couldn't get away from her except for one way.

He wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse.

Sitting back, he pressed his thumb into the wound on his forearm, the pain sent adrenaline through his body and his vision cleared, she vanished for a moment, but when he lifted his thumb, releasing the pressure, she reappeared. MacCready couldn't fight the frustrated sigh that escaped him, laying back and closing his eyes. As long as she'd plague him, he figured he'd get some sleep, at least.

And sleep he did, she held him there, but he woke, often, fitfully, and remembered. Before the night turned to dawn, his dreams became nightmares, and he looked forward to more sleepless nights sitting in his chair at the Third Rail. At least there he'd eventually get too tired to think straight, let alone imagine someone who wasn't there. Someone who'd probably never be there again. He'd helped her, followed her into the Glowing Sea and back out again, assisted in the dispatching of a Courser. Even carried a bunch of junk so she could build the Relay she needed to find her boy, and afterward? Nothing.

She was just gone, a flash of neon blue, and that was it. He woke again, staring at the ceiling of the shanty building he was sleeping in, caught up between dream and reality. She was looking down on him, gently cupping his cheek. When he tried to do the same, his hand passed through the hallucination, and he closed his eyes again, now angry rather than just depressed. Rolling onto his side, pain arcing through him as he laid on his left side, the side, he was sure, housed a cracked rib where a 10mm had grazed his side, bouncing off the bone in the process. He didn't know if he could sleep while hurting, but he'd be damned if he didn't give it a shot. Closing his eyes again, he found that it was possible, sleep edging over consciousness until he was entirely enveloped in darkness again. Thankfully he didn't dream the last few hours of the night, finding only an empty, blissful oblivion.


End file.
